The Little Angels
by geraldine01
Summary: Johnny knows something *bad* is going on but the grownups won't listen to him. Johnny and Scott are kids in an alternate Lancer universe in this supernatural tale. Tags: Kidfic, AU, family, supernatural, hurt child, kid Johnny, kid Scott, kid Val, Catherine, Angel Day, Maria.
1. Chapter 1

Fandom: Lancer  
Rating: PG  
Genre: family, supernatural, kidfic, some violence  
5 chapters, 10,425 words

Johnny and Scott are kids in an alternate Lancer universe in this supernatural tale.  
Written: October 31, 2009  
Tags: Kidfic, AU, supernatural, hurt child, kid Johnny, kid Scott, kid Val, Catherine, Angel Day, Maria.

Notes: As you can see, I wrote this a few years ago. I hope you enjoy it, even if there appear to be several POVs!  
Please leave comments...

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 **The Little Angels**

CHAPTER 1 - Costumes

"I'm gonna be a rabbit," Johnny proclaimed.

Scott raised an eyebrow at his little brother. "Rabbits are for kids."

Johnny stuck out his lower lip, his brows drew together in a frown and then he blurted, "I'm not a kid!"

With a fond laugh, the older boy roughed up Johnny's already tousled hair. "I think being five years old makes you a kid, Johnny." When his little brother kicked out Scott jumped back quickly. He was used to Johnny's antics, but the small boy was getting faster. "Hey! You know what Pa says: No kicking."

Johnny gave another, half-hearted kick but when Scott slapped out at his arm, he ran for the safety of the kitchen. Scott followed more slowly, shaking his head. Kids, he thought.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

That evening at the dinner table, Johnny, his mouth full of cake, declared loudly, "I'm gonna be a fox."

But Murdoch, in the middle of talking to his eldest son about his schoolwork, wasn't listening. "The Padre says your Latin studies are progressing well, Scott," he said with a proud smile. "You're advancing beyond the level he would expect from an eight-year-old."

Scott flushed and his gaze dropped to his plate, but he smiled all the same. Then he raised his head and admitted, "I prefer the Sciences and reading, Father." He turned to look in his mother's direction. Her eyes were alight when her gaze moved past him to where his father sat at the head of the table. She looked so pretty when she smiled, he thought.

Catherine cut a generous slice of chocolate cake and handed it to Scott to pass to his father. "Now Murdoch, you know that our son is advanced for his age, but I will remind you that he is still a boy." She smiled at Scott and then at Johnny, who had chocolate smeared on his nose, cheeks and chin. "Both of our boys are smart. Aren't you, love?" She playfully touched one of Johnny's chubby cheeks with a finger. Johnny started to speak with his mouth full, but his mother quelled him with a stern look.

He swallowed, licked his lips, reached for his glass of milk and stated again, "I'm gonna be a fox."

"Going to be a fox," Murdoch corrected absently.

Johnny enunciated with care, saying, "I am going to be a–"

Scott interrupted loudly, "We get it, Johnny! You're going to be a fox. Mother, can you get him to stop saying that?"

Catherine turned to the small boy at her side and had to restrain herself from helping him raise the glass of milk. She watched closely, but for once Johnny drank it all without spilling a drop. As soon as he put the now-empty milk glass safely back on the table, she asked him patiently, "Are you going to dress up as a fox for Halloween, Johnny?"

He nodded, and when his long hair fell over his eyes, Catherine lovingly pushed it back. "We'll have to make sure that you have a costume ready for tomorrow night then, won't we? And on Monday we'll take a trip to the barber and get your hair cut."

"A fox," Johnny said firmly, but with a look of entreaty in his big blue eyes.

"Yes, dear. You can be whatever you like." She leaned over and kissed Johnny's forehead then rose to usher him up to bed.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Once the brothers were safe in their bedroom and tucked up in bed, their mother retreated, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Johnny called to his brother, "What are you going to be?"

Scott turned over with a sigh to face Johnny. He knew if he didn't humor him, the kid would never stop pestering him and they'd never get any sleep. "I haven't given it a lot of thought, Johnny." There was silence in the near dark, so Scott sighed and stretched his legs under the covers. He did have an idea of what he wanted to be for Halloween, though he'd been keeping it to himself. There wasn't much chance of keeping a secret with Johnny around.

Johnny's small voice asked, "You going to be an animal?"

"Something better." From the sound of the movement coming from Johnny's bed, Scott knew he'd piqued his brother's interest. Before he was pestered into revealing his choice of a costume, Scott gave in. "I am going to be a lawman."

After a long silence, Johnny asked incredulously, "Why?"

Scott reasoned that he didn't have to explain himself to some little kid, even if he was his brother. Despite his thoughts, he said in a world-weary voice, "I'm going to be a special kind of lawman, a Ranger. He rides a big silver horse and fights the bad men."

"Does he have a gun?" Johnny sat up in bed. He had a fascination with guns, even though he wasn't old enough to do more than touch Pa's Winchester, and only when very closely supervised. Scott had a .22 and went hunting with the men sometimes, if Mama allowed it. Johnny couldn't wait until he was old enough to go, too. He didn't care about hunting animals; he just wanted to handle a gun. He liked the shiny revolvers and the brass casings on the bullets.

"Yes, he has a gun," Scott said. "With silver bullets. And he wears a star on his chest so the villains know who he is and they run as soon as they set eyes on him." Although at school Scott was reading fables in Latin, he also had a dog-eared copy of a dime novel he'd traded his biggest cat's eye marble for with a boy at school. In the story, Ranger Roy dispatched evildoers with his magic gun and rode a fiery steed. Scott's fondest wish was to be just like him.

Johnny lay back down in his bed. "That's stupid."

"Not as stupid as wanting to be a fox," was the quick retort.

The bedroom door opened and their father's body blocked the dim light from the hall for a moment. "Boys…" Then Murdoch stepped into the room; his shadow fell across the boys' beds. "It's late and we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. No more talking."

"Yes, sir," Scott promptly said.

Murdoch waited to hear Johnny's response but it didn't come. "Johnny?"

"But Papa, I gotta ask you somethin'."

Murdoch sighed and went to sit on the small boy's bed. It creaked and dipped under his weight. "You can always ask me something," he said with a smile.

Johnny worked himself into a sitting position and looked up at his father with wide eyes. "¿Todos los niños que se mueren convertido en ángeles?"

"In English," Murdoch said. But before Johnny could repeat the question, he replied, "Yes, son, children who die become angels. They go to Heaven."

Johnny asked in a small voice, "Like Tia Maria's little boy?"

Although it was inevitable that the conversation was going to take this tack, Murdoch felt ill-prepared. He was a practical man, but talking to his own small child about the death of young Maria's baby was not an easy task. He could feel Scott's eyes burning into him. When the boys' grandfather had died a few months earlier, Catherine had talked to Scott about her father's passing; Johnny had been deemed too young to comprehend the matter. But now he seemed very concerned about poor Maria's little baby, taken by the Lord barely a month ago.

After he took a breath, Murdoch said, "This is why in two days' time we celebrate el Día de los Angelitos. It's a time for their souls to come back and visit. How would you like to go to Tia Maria's home and make an offering of a toy and some milk? And tomorrow night you can dress up and go down to the casitas. The señoras will be making candied pumpkin and they're sure to offer all the children some sweets." He rose and said firmly, "Now sleep, both of you."

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

When Scott returned with his mother from town the next afternoon, he had a brown paper-wrapped package in hand. He opened it once he was alone in his bedroom and carefully unfolded the shirt his mother had bought him. He held it up to admire it. It was blue. There was a red neckerchief to go with it.

Johnny piped up behind him. "What's that?"

Scott resisted the temptation to hide his new clothes, but instead he turned slowly to look at his little brother. "My ranger outfit." Johnny stood with his hands behind his back, an angelic look on his face. Scott placed his hands on his hips. "All right, squirt, what have you done now?"

If anything, Johnny looked even more angelic. "Nothin'."

Scott snorted and grabbed his brother's arm, twisting it until Johnny brought his hand out from behind his back. Johnny yelled and kicked up a fuss, but Scott shouted at him to keep quiet. When he finally had a good look at the thing his brother was holding onto for dear life, Scott couldn't believe his eyes. In Johnny's fist was clutched a long, furry tail of a fox. "Where'd you get that?"

Johnny squirmed until he slipped free of his older brother's grasp and then hightailed it out of their room. Scott called out after him, "I'm gonna tell Mother!"

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Catherine removed her bonnet and checked her hair for stray wisps in her dressing table mirror. She patted a couple of curls into place and tidied her bun. At least her hair was still as blond as when she was a girl, she thought, but then dismissed her vanity as being unnecessary. Her husband doted on her, and had loved her from the first moment they met. Every year of their marriage made them fall deeper in love.

She smiled to herself at the memories of the early days of their marriage. Murdoch had been somewhat put out and not a little bit shocked to find that his bride had an Irish temper. She laughed aloud remembering the look on his face the first time she grew angry with him and threw a kettle at his head - one that was still full of hot water. How he had roared at her. Ah, but after the fights they made up in the best way possible, as only a man and woman could do.

Her daydreams were interrupted by the children's screams, but she was well enough attuned to them to know it was only a squabble. They would sort it out among themselves and by suppertime they would be the best of friends again. She treasured her husband and her sons, and knew that life without them would be very dull indeed.

Catherine sighed and turned to leave the bedroom, but she caught sight of the trunk at the foot of her bed. It was slightly ajar; a piece of cloth was hanging out, preventing it from closing properly. She went over and lifted the lid. The contents, mostly linens, and trousseau dresses she never wore any more, were mussed up. When she leaned over to smooth out the fine cloth she saw some fur peeping out from under it.

It was the fur stole Murdoch had given her for their first anniversary, made from pelts he had trapped himself during that long, cold winter back in Montana. She pulled the stole out and held it aloft, admiring its softness and sheen. But something about it was not quite right. Something was missing. . .

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Down in the kitchen Johnny was munching on a small marzipan candy, shaped like a human skull, when he heard his mother's yell.

"Johneeeeee!"

He looked up at the ceiling and mouthed, "Uh oh."

The Lancer's housekeeper and cook, Mrs. Day, stopped her candy making to look up at the ceiling, too. Then her gaze slid over to settle on the little boy seated at the kitchen table. One of her eyebrows raised in a perfect arch and her mouth twisted sourly, but she went back to rolling out the candy fondant.

Johnny ran for the back door.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 - Tall Tales

Once outside, just as Johnny was sure he'd made a clean getaway, someone grabbed his arm and jerked him to a halt. He yelled in protest but his father's gruff voice called out, "Stop right there," and scared him into submission.

When Murdoch saw how frightened Johnny was he lifted him into his arms and jogged him up and down a couple of times. "What's all this, young man?" Johnny's eyes lowered and his mouth took on a look that spoke volumes. Softly, Murdoch prompted, "Tell Papa all about it. What did you do now?

Johnny shook his head stubbornly.

Murdoch puzzled over the child's refusal to explain what was going on, and after a moment set him down on the ground. He could hear Catherine's raised voice, but it was apparent she wasn't heading their way. "Let's go look at the ponies." He held onto Johnny's hand and was about to walk him over to the corral when he espied something dangling off the boy's rear. On closer inspection he saw that tied to Johnny's belt was a long, bushy, russet fox's tail with a white tip. "What is this…?"

"I'm a fox!" Johnny looked up, way up, to meet his father's eyes. "I wanna be a fox and Mama had it hid away. She don't use it. She don't care." Defiantly he added, for good measure, "Scott's a Ranger and he has a gun and. . .and I'm a fox." He raised his hands with fingers curled like claws and snarled like a ferocious beast.

Murdoch covered his mouth with his hand for a moment then cleared his throat. "So I can see. You make a fine fox, Johnny." He heard Catherine's voice, closer than before. She was talking to Mrs. Day in the kitchen, so he leaned over and said conspiringly, "How about I take care of your mother while you run off and play by the barn?" He looked up and saw the teenaged son of his foreman hanging over the corral fence, tossing hay to the young horses. "Look, there's Valerian. Go and play with him."

Although uncertain why he was getting off so easily, Johnny wasn't about to wait around for his mother to catch him. He scurried away as fast as his little legs would take him.

Murdoch couldn't hold back his laughter as he watched Johnny run like a wild animal with the fox's tail streaming out behind him, making a beeline for the corral.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

"Whatcha doin'? Whatcha doin', Val?"

Val sighed, tossed the last of the feed to the young horses and jumped down off the fence. Although thirteen, he hadn't grown very tall, so he compensated by wearing cowboy boots.

They were down-at-the-heel, third-hand, scruffy boots, but for all their disreputable appearance, Johnny was impressed. Everything about Val impressed the little boy. Val was a few years older than Scott, even if they were almost the same height since Scott had grown so much over the summer. 'Scotty has sprouted like a cornstalk,' Gramps Garrett had said fondly before he'd choked on a walnut and died back in August.

But Val didn't care what anyone thought, and that meant more to Johnny than just about anything. He was smart and brave, too. He stood up to his Pa, even when he did something wrong and got whaled on. Johnny had witnessed Val's Pa, only a few days earlier, taking his belt to his son for being disobedient. Johnny knew Val had been a bad boy, and bad boys got the strap, but all the same it wasn't fair.

Scott had been present, too, and had tried to cover his little brother's eyes, but despite his efforts Johnny had peeped out. Later on, when it was over and Mr. Crawford had stomped off looking just as angry as before he'd given his son his punishment, Johnny had asked Val if it hurt much.

Val had said a swear word and said, No, he just had some dirt in his eye. Scott had already headed back for the hacienda so he didn't hear what Val said next, in a voice so low it sounded like a growl. But Johnny heard every word. Val had looked in the direction his father had gone and said, "One day I'm gonna kill you, Chapel Crawford, if it's the last thing I ever do."

Johnny then went and slipped his hand in Val's larger one, and said loyally, "Me, too."

Now Val made gentle fun of the tail hanging off Johnny's belt. He made a game of trying to grab it while the little boy ran circles around him, squealing in delight. When they finally tired of the game they stopped at the pump for a drink of water. Val worked the creaky handle and let Johnny drink first from the tin cup. "The old ladies are gonna dole out candy tonight," Val said as he jerked his thumb in the direction of the cluster of workers' cottages down near the road. "Bet the kids'll be happier than piglets diggin' into a trough full of hot mash."

Johnny clapped his hands in delight at the notion of getting candy. "Scott and me are gonna get candy. You can come with us if you want. You're gonna come with us, Val?"

But Val shook his head and hunched his shoulders a bit. He took his turn drinking some water then said in a funny voice, "I don't wanna go. Some of them are crazy down there."

Johnny looked at his friend with wide eyes. "Loco?" He liked to talk in Spanish. The vaqueros taught him new words all the time and when he repeated them back, they always laughed a lot, so he knew he must be getting them right.

Val nodded. "Yeah, loco, like that Mrs. O'Brien. She's got a crazy way about her, like when she looks at little kids." He shrugged and eyed Johnny, remembering that Mrs. O'Brien was his aunt. "Guess it's 'cause of losing her baby, but she was awful strange before that. Maybe that's why Mr. O'Brien goes on cattle drives and never comes home."

Johnny didn't know what to make of such information, so he focused on the little he knew. "We're taking her baby a toy, my Pa says, and milk for him to drink."

Val stepped back with a frown. "How can a dead baby drink milk? Or play with a toy? It's all craziness." He bent at the waist and jabbed a finger at Johnny's chest. "She'll offer you candy just to get you inside, and you know what she's got in there?"

Johnny shook his head slowly. "Nooo."

"She's got an altar all set up," Val said. "Like in a church. Except it's got a baby lyin' on it, and smelly old candles, and bread - pan de muerto. Tonight she's gonna eat the bread and give an offering to her dead kid at midnight. That's when the spirits cross over, they say. Like any of it's gonna bring him back," Val sneered. His voice rose as he told a frightened, but fascinated, Johnny, "She makes sacrifices, kills chickens and drinks their blood, and eats candy skulls as practice for when she gets to eat a real little boy - like you."

"No, she don't do that," Johnny said, unsure.

Val nodded. "Yep. Right at midnight. That's how you can bring back the dead and if she thinks killin' will bring back her baby, she'll just take a knife to some kid and –"

"Stop that right now!"

Johnny whirled and saw Scott standing a few feet away, rigid with anger. Scott ordered, "You stop that, Valerian Crawford! You're scaring my little brother."

"I didn't mean nothin' by it," Val said with a shrug. He stepped away from Johnny and scuffed the dirt with his toe. "Anyways, Johnny ain't scared."

"I'm not scared, Scott." Johnny peered up at his brother but Scott was busy glaring at Val and paid him no heed.

"You did mean it," said Scott. "You're turning out to be just like your father, Val, mean and spiteful against those who are weaker than yourself."

Val stared at Scott. His hands clenched into fists and he looked ready to launch himself at Scott, but then he turned on his heel and strode away. Johnny was torn between wanting Val to come back and the realization that his big brother was protecting him. From what exactly, he wasn't sure, because he knew that Val had been telling him a whopper, but Having Scott stick up for him brought a warm feeling to his tummy.

Scott waited until Val had disappeared behind the barn then took hold of Johnny's hand and led him back to the hacienda. Johnny forgot, until they were almost at the door, that he didn't want his mother to catch him. Just as he was about to pull out of his brother's grasp and run, the front door opened. Mama stood there, and when she spied Johnny she crossed her arms. Johnny thought that was a good sign because if her arms were crossed it meant she wasn't going to spank him.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

A few minutes later it was all over. Johnny was dry-eyed and resolute, even if his bottom smarted.

His mother stood in the center of her bedroom with the bedraggled fox's tail held high in one hand. She seemed unsure what to do with it, and when Murdoch entered she turned to him, exasperated. "Now what am I to do with this? My stole is ruined!"

Murdoch smiled slightly. "Honey, you haven't worn that fur since we were in Montana, and besides, I doubt that fox is expecting his tail to be returned to him. Why, we'd have to pin it back on him," he chuckled. He felt Johnny tugging at his pants and leaned down to hear what his boy had to say for himself.

"Papa, if we find the fox, can I pin it on him? Can I?"

Murdoch asked, "Are you sorry for ruining your mother's pretty stole?"

But Johnny's Mama was looking at him like she might want to give him another spanking. Johnny hid behind his father's legs and peered out at his mother. He said in a small voice, "I'm sorry, Mama." After a moment she shook her head and smiled and held out her arms to him. Without hesitation Johnny ran into her enveloping embrace. He enjoyed the loving feeling he got from being close to his mother but then he saw the fox's tail was still in her hand. He asked hopefully, "Can I have it back now?"

Catherine held her little boy at arm's length and looked at him, stunned that he would ask her such a thing. "Johnny–."

Murdoch laughed. "Go on, Catherine. It's of no use to you any more."

"He won't learn his lesson if I give it to him to play with again, Murdoch." Her husband sent a look of appeal her way, so with a big sigh, Catherine handed the sad-looking fox's tail to Johnny. "All right. I'm only giving this to you because your father wishes it." She looked Johnny up and down and placed her hands on her hips. "It's early to bed with you, child. Right after supper."

"No!" Johnny protested, tears finally coming to his blue eyes. He gripped the furry tail in his little hands as if it might get away from him. "No, I want to go out with Scott! I want candy! I want–."

"Johnny! Stop that right now! What have you done with my good little boy," asked Catherine. "Where is my little angel?"

Johnny sobbed, "I want…I wa…want–."

Murdoch quelled the flood of tears and protestations by overriding them in his loud voice. "You may go out tonight, Johnny, but _only_ to pay respect to Tia Maria."

Catherine's lips compressed and she cast her husband a sharp look. "I don't like the boys going down to the casitas. That Maria. I know she's your half-sister, Murdoch, but–." She stopped when she realized Johnny was looking at her with interest.

"Maria is in mourning, Catherine," said Murdoch, his tone firm. "And if my sister finds solace in tonight's rituals, then it can do no harm."

Catherine, well aware of her husband's fondness for both his sister and her husband, Paul O'Brien, knew it would do her no good to say what she really thought - that the young woman was too pretty by far, even when she'd been crying. And that she wasn't the first woman to ever lose a baby. Catherine had seen the way Maria had looked longingly at her own two boys and it made her uneasy. She said in a voice meant only for her husband's ears, "You tell me why Paul is never here at Lancer, when she needs him."

Murdoch turned away without a word of reply and guided Johnny to the door with a light hand on his shoulder. "How about we go down to the kitchen and find you some supper, young man? Your brother will be wondering what's happened to you."

On their way down to the kitchen, Murdoch said to Johnny, "We'll be lighting a bonfire as soon as it gets dark. Back home we lit a hundred of them, all around the village, to keep the spooks away." His Scots accent became more evident when he spoke of home. "Aye, we'd put sheets o'er our heads and run about like mad things. Ma said it was good because our antics would scare away the evil spirits that might come and take the wee children away." He recited, "Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze, On sprightly coursers prance."

Johnny giggled, not knowing what the funny words meant, but he enjoyed the attention from his father. He promised himself he'd be good. Why he'd be as good as an angel, just like Mama wanted him to be.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 - Enticements

After supper, Scott and Johnny watched their father light a great bonfire of wood stacked on the drive. Their blacksmith, an older man called Sam, helped Murdoch heave a couple of heavy timbers onto the top of the pyre. Sam grumbled the whole time about his bad back but his boss was so used to it he turned a deaf ear.

The Lancer boys joined the ranch hands' costumed children in running around screaming at the top of their lungs. Both boys wore masks that Mrs. Day had made for him, strips of black cloth with slits cut out for their eyes. She was fond of the Lancer children and had taken the time to help them with their costumes. She tied the fox's tail to Johnny's belt, once again, and it streamed out behind him when he ran around. Scott, wearing his Ranger Roy outfit, hid behind a buckboard and pretended to shoot the children he had designated as the bad guys.

The housekeeper came out on the verandah to keep an eye on the children dancing and playing around the eight-foot-tall stack of blazing timber. Some of the little ones tied sheets around their necks - the girls said they were angels and the boys were ghosts. One little boy wore his father's scruffy jacket held together at the waist with an old cartridge belt, with bullets still in the loops. Several of the smaller girls wore nightdresses, their hair adorned with rings of paper flowers.

Catherine and Murdoch stood near one of the massive pillars, watching the scene as it played out in the last light of the day. They waved when the doctor pulled up in his buckboard. His seven children jumped out to join in the fun.

When he reached out to shake Murdoch's hand in greeting, Dr. Hoskins proclaimed, "I figgered a few more kids tossed into the melee wouldn't make no difference. I think I brought seven of them, or thereabouts. Some days I can't seem to remember how many me and the Missus have and I'm always losing track of them." Three of his youngsters ran past the doctor and almost knocked him over. "Just look at them having fun," he said admiringly. "They seem to have more energy every day, while I just have less and less."

Murdoch nodded in sympathy. "And we only have those two boys, but they wear us out. Did you bring your fiddle, Doc?"

"I sure did and," he said with a wink at Mrs. Day, "I'll be expecting to see you out there dancin' tonight, ma'am, and maybe take a turn with me."

Mrs. Day blushed and shooed the doctor away. "More likely I'll dance with Mayor Cipriano," she said, pointing to the newly arrived dignitary. The mayor helped his wife out of their buggy and once she was happy talking with the women gathered around the bonfire, he came over to greet the Lancers.

When Murdoch stepped off the verandah to talk to the mayor, Catherine turned to Mrs. Day. "My children look so adorable in their little costumes. I have to thank you, Mrs. Day, for making them. One thing's for certain, the boys will be worn out and ready for bed before long."

Angel Day nodded, glad to be appreciated. She watched young Valerian prancing around the blazing fire then recognized the man tossing more wood on top of the pyre as his father, Chapel Crawford. She had observed that Mr. Lancer liked his wrangler well enough to invite him over for a game of poker, but she had seen the way Crawford lashed out at his son. That was reason enough for her to dislike the man. Nobody should hurt a child, she thought, even if he was your own.

The housekeeper made sure that there was a big bowl of punch set out on a table, and oversaw the laying out of platters of food as well. Bottles of wine were being passed around among the men but when Dr. Hoskins picked up his fiddle and started to play, several of the vaqueros grabbed their women and began to dance.

The sound of their laughter, the sight of their brightly colored dresses swirling in such joyous movement made Mrs. Day wish she were one of those women. Ah, to be held close by her man and swung around in time to some jaunty music. She hadn't done that in a very long time. How she missed her husband, a no-good cardsharp who had run off with the former housekeeper. She wished her man would come back to her. Even after everything he had done to her, beating her senseless and then leaving with the men's weekly wages in his pocket, she'd welcome him back with open arms, she would. If only…

Mrs. Day sighed and knew that wishing for things did not make them come true. In fact the opposite usually happened so, being a superstitious woman, she crossed herself for allowing the thought to enter her mind. Despite the warmth of the evening a chill ran down her spine. A wind kicked up and sent the bonfire's flames rocketing ten feet into the air with a whoosh. Sparks went everywhere and a couple of the women squealed, but then the wind disappeared and the fire died down. "Something bad is going to happen before the night is over," she said ominously, crossing herself.

The children were romping around near the barn, engaged in a mock gun battle. Scott pointed his pretend gun at Johnny and shouted, "Bang! Bang!" Playing along, his little brother fell down, writhing in a mock death scene.

When he finished talking with Mayor Cipriano, Murdoch brought his wife a glass of punch. Catherine motioned towards their children and shook her head in dismay. "I don't agree with any of this, Murdoch. I didn't raise our children to act like animals or…or desperados."

Murdoch wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders and gave her a brief hug. "Oh, let the boys enjoy their bit of fun."

Catherine stepped to the edge of the verandah and called out for Johnny to come to her side. Johnny obeyed, though his feet dragged every step of the way over across the yard. He stopped in front of his mother, but said nothing.

With a finger under the child's chin, Catherine tipped up his face. "What have you got in your mouth, Johnny? Candy?"

He chewed and swallowed hard. "Nuthin'."

"You know what I told you," warned Catherine. "No candy. Maybe you should go to bed now."

Johnny pled, "But, Mama, Scott is still playing and I want to play and he's got candy and it's not fair!"

Murdoch stepped in. "Leave him be, Catherine." His wife cast him an annoyed look, but he said, "Go and play, Johnny." To his wife, "He's only a child. He's a good boy."

"But hardly an angel, Murdoch." She didn't stop Johnny when he ran back to resume his play with the other children.

Murdoch smiled to himself. "I certainly hope not."

Just as the sun set several butterflies flitted around, their orange and black wings fluttering lightly over the heads of the children. Johnny jumped, trying to catch them, his laughter infectious. Soon all of the children, and some of the adults, were dancing around, the butterflies circling their heads. When Johnny caught one, he ran to show it to his parents, hands cupped to hold his precious captive. Breathlessly, he said, "Mama, la mariposa!" When he cautiously opened his hands, instead of taking off, the butterfly rested on his palm. Stately, brilliantly colored, it flew to sit on Johnny's shoulder.

Catherine smiled at her little boy's delight but then she shivered as something that felt like cold fingers touched her heart. For a moment, with the mask covering half his face, Johnny looked like a stranger to her. But then she saw her child's blue eyes and the feeling went away as quickly as it had come. "You do look dangerous in that mask, young desperado." She reached out and pulled it off his face despite his protest, then straightened his mussed up hair. She hated that her beloved child looked more like his aunt than either of his parents, with his dark hair and blue eyes. Murdoch had told her that all of the women in his family had the look of the Black Irish in them.

He grinned crookedly at his mother. "The butterfly likes me, Mama."

Murdoch said, "It's a Monarch butterfly. Some folks believe las monarcas bear the spirits of their departed. It's a great honor to be touched by one, Johnny." He reached out with a finger to lightly touch the butterfly that was crawling onto Johnny's chest, but it fluttered its delicate wings and flew away.

Johnny's face fell, and when his mother said, "Fun's over, my sweet," he kicked at the dirt and moaned.

"But Mama, I want some candy first!"

"No candy tonight, Johnny," his mother reminded him.

Murdoch called Scott over. "Boys, go inside with Mrs. Day and get the gifts you plan to take as an offering to your aunt."

"Will she have candy for us?" Johnny asked hopefully. Neither of his parents replied.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

It was dark by the time Murdoch escorted his sons along the path between the small cottages his married workers lived in. He occasionally touched their shoulders to usher them along. Scott carried a pitcher of milk, watching his every step lest he spill any, and Johnny held a wooden toy horse close to his chest.

They were the only people around, with all the Lancer folks still enjoying the festivities back at the hacienda. The sound of their revelry was muffled but there was an occasional burst of laughter from the direction of the bonfire.

As they walked up to the house at the end, a whitewashed casita with a blue door, Val slouched by, his eyes to the ground. There was a bottle in his hand. When Murdoch greeted him, Val hesitated but stopped long enough to respond to the boss's inquiry if he was enjoying himself.

Val nodded without enthusiasm. "My Pa sent me to get some booze and I gotta get back," he said, raising the bottle in his hand. Murdoch nodded and when he turned away to knock on the door, Val leaned close to Johnny and hissed, "Watch out she don't eat ya." He didn't even wait to see the little boy's reaction, just took off at a run.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 - Tia Maria

From the dark recesses of the room came the sound of chanting. It was a woman's voice, low and melodic.

Murdoch pushed the boys ahead of him then closed the door. The interior of the casita was very dark, despite the many fragrant candles sitting on every available surface. A lump of copal burned in a dish on a table near Johnny, casting a heavy, resinous scent throughout the room.

The smell was sweet to the point of being sickening. Johnny wrinkled his nose and moved away from the stinky candle, over to look at the altar that his aunt had made next to the hearth. There was a large wooden crucifix on the wall, with silver nails and milagros embedded all over it. Baby toys and clothing were laid out on display with marigold petals strewn across them. But what fascinated Johnny was a small, milk-white baby lying in a bed of wilting flowers. He stared at it with wide eyes for a minute then backed up until he was close to Scott. "El angelito," he whispered.

The chanting stopped and a woman with a shawl over her hair stepped out of the darkest recess of the room. "You came," she said in a low voice. The shawl slipped to her shoulders and exposed her mass of unbound, black, wavy hair. She held out her hands to the boys and beckoned them. "Children," she said. "Look at you in your fancy costume, Scott. You are the good sheriff?"

Scott beamed and said, "I'm Ranger Roy. We brought the offrenda, Tia Maria." He held the jug of milk in outstretched hands until she took it from him. When Johnny only stood and stared at the woman, Scott urged his little brother, "Give her the toy."

But Johnny clung to the carved wooden horse he had brought as a gift for a dead child, not because he wanted to keep it, but because he was upset by the sight of the woman. He knew her, of course. Knew she was Tia Maria, his father's half-sister, but for some reason she looked foreign to him in the darkness of the cottage.

Strands of her long black hair fell across her face, unkempt and wild, half-obscuring her features. Her dress looked like it was made of rags, torn and dirty. Several necklaces hung around her neck, ropes of silver and beads with large brass charms that made clinking sounds when she moved. Her eyes, usually as friendly and blue as his own, were black pools.

Johnny couldn't tear his eyes away from their charcoal depths, even though he was shaking where he stood. There was something wrong. Something was bad in this house. Johnny was so scared he felt he had to pee right then and there but he took a big breath and, with all of his strength, willed the fear away.

Murdoch asked Johnny gently, "Where are your manners, Johnny? Give Tia Maria the toy for. . ."

Johnny tore his gaze away from the strange woman and craned his neck so he could see his father's face. Papa wasn't scared, so that gave Johnny the confidence to whisper, "But. . .but she's got a baby."

Scott snorted. "It isn't real, silly."

"Please, Scott." Murdoch crouched down and said to Johnny, "It's made of sugar, son. It's only pretend, a stand-in for her child, the baby who. . ." He glanced up at Maria, who fixed her eyes on him and waited for him to continue. Murdoch was afraid his explanation was going over the heads of the children, but he continued anyway. "Such gifts are for the departed. To ease their journey. You know all about la Dia de Muertos." Johnny didn't move a muscle and in the dim light of the room Murdoch had a hard time gauging his child's emotion, so he added, "She wants a visit from her baby so she made one of sugar, to encourage him to come back to visit her."

Murdoch didn't believe any of it, but he knew the rituals were important to many people. The women in his family had always held superstitious beliefs, and Maria was no different. His half-sister still mourned her child, and if lighting candles and speaking mumbo-jumbo over a surrogate baby helped her, then he would play along. His sister had appeared unwell the past couple of weeks, and he was worried about her. It didn't help matters that Paul was avoiding his troubled wife in her time of need.

Johnny had looked petrified at first but now he seemed to have recovered. Still, the child remained silent. "There's nothing to be scared of, Johnny." Uncomfortable, Murdoch looked up at his sister and said, "They're both tired."

"No matter, brother." Maria picked up a plate of candies she had made in the shape of skulls, coffins and angels. "Children, you come and have something sweet. These ones are chocolate," she enticed.

Murdoch was surprised that Johnny didn't reach out for a piece of candy. It was unlike him to hold back. When the little boy turned and hid his face in his father's trousers, Murdoch shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow, Maria. You may have some, Scott."

Scott reached out towards the plate of sweets then quickly retracted his hand as if he'd been burned. "No thank you, ma'am."

"But you must have some," Maria insisted. "At midnight it is time for los angelitos to arrive. The spirits of little children can pass across the spirit world into ours. This is the time to eat, before the night is over. I even made some animas, some bread in the shape of children."

Scott shook his head adamantly. "If my brother can't have any, then I'll do without, too."

"Johnny is being punished, Maria," Murdoch explained. "His mother said no candy. It's not often they pay attention to anything we say," he said with a regretful smile. "Boys, you wait over there while I have a word with your aunt." Murdoch leaned over his sister's smaller figure and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, talking to her in a low tone.

Still holding the wooden horse in both of his hands, Johnny waited by the door with Scott. Johnny heard his father say something about Paul not coming back and he knew that was Uncle Paul, who he liked a lot. His uncle was never around any more, not since the baby died and Tia Maria had started to act funny. Johnny played with the wooden horse for a few minutes but when he looked up Tia Maria was staring at him, her black-as-night eyes aglow in the candlelight.

Murdoch kissed her on the cheek and said good night. "Que Dios la bendiga, Maria." He opened the blue door and stepped out first, Scott close on his heels. Johnny stopped only long enough to place the toy horse on a table then bolted for the doorway. But at the last moment a hand reached out, grabbed hold of Johnny's upper arm and dragged him back inside.

Murdoch and Scott headed down the path between the casitas, talking as they headed home, unaware that Johnny was not following them.

The door slammed shut. Johnny was trapped.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

The little boy whimpered because of the painful grip the woman had on his arm. She leaned close and hissed, "Tonight, when all is quiet, as in death, the veil between our world and theirs will be thin like the mist over the hills, and you will come here. You hear me, child? You will do as I say, you will obey me."

Johnny pulled away and wriggled, trying to gain his freedom, to no avail. "It's no use. You must yield." Despite the child's resistance, Maria stuck her finger in the hot copal oil and rubbed a symbol on his forehead. She began to chant, "Altar thus sprach al nicht, schtaw thrutla al nicht. . ."

Johnny yowled in pain from the hot oil and struggled so hard he was able to tear out of his aunt's grasp. He ran for the door, lifted the latch and was free. Johnny fled as if the devil was after him, right past his brother and father, and didn't stop running until he reached the crowd of folks standing around the bonfire, talking and laughing as if nothing was wrong. He ran straight to Val and clung to the older boy.

Val didn't ask any stupid questions, but stood with his arm around Johnny. He took a hard look back the way the kid had come but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Catherine, seated on the verandah and talking with Mrs. Day, saw Johnny come tearing along and immediately knew something had scared him. She hurried over and picked Johnny up, and her little boy threw his arms around her neck and clung to her like a vise. He buried his head in her shoulder and wouldn't look up. Catherine walked back to the house, but stopped partway and turned to thank Valerian for being there for Johnny, but the teenager had already sauntered away.

Murdoch and Scott came from the direction of the workers' cottages, talking, but they didn't approach the hacienda. Instead they went over to the now dying pyre and mingled with the guests.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

When Catherine put Johnny to bed and her hand brushed his long hair back from his forehead she saw a red mark on his baby-soft skin. Puzzled, she lifted the lamp to get a better look at it, but Johnny turned his head away and hid under the blanket. She left him alone. It wasn't serious even if it looked like a mild burn; he had probably gotten too close to the fire and had been scorched.

She would have to ask Murdoch what had happened when they visited his sister to make Johnny come running up to the house like that. She scoffed at Maria with her beads and chants – as if anything would bring back a child who was lost.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Johnny was unable to sleep. He huddled under his covers, petrified that Tia Maria would come and get him. Eventually, when Scott came to bed the older boy immediately fell asleep. The sounds of the party died down and the other members of the Lancer household turned in for the night.

The grandfather clock downstairs chimed eleven, and then later on, one tone indicated the half hour, and still Johnny was awake. For some reason, all he could think of was that white candy baby lying on the hearth at Tia Maria's house.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 - The Blue Door

Johnny, inexplicably drawn to the blue door in the middle of the night, stood in front of it in his bare feet and nightshirt. He blinked sleepily and wondered why he was standing there. It was very dark and he felt very much alone. He shivered.

Then slowly the door opened and the warm, pungent smell of copal and incense wafted out. The only light emanated from the many candles, some burned so low they flickered and gutted, with wax dripping over the table edge and onto the floor like blood. Someone inside the gloomy room was humming, the voice low and the words indecipherable, and then a deep moan came from the far corner. It sounded like an animal in great pain. The hairs on the back of Johnny's neck stood up when he realized it was coming from his aunt, Maria.

A voice inside Johnny's mind told him - shouted at him - not to step inside. Run, it said, run, Johnny! But even though the little boy knew he should heed the warning he was unable to take that first step on the road to escape. Although he resisted Johnny was pulled into the casita by an invisible force. As soon as he stepped inside, the door closed firmly behind him.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

The moaning stopped and a dark shape shuffled towards Johnny. It was Tia Maria. She approached him with her hands extended, her fingers burned raw, coated in wax and reeking of the resinous copal. Before Johnny regained his senses his aunt took a firm hold of his upper arms, put her face close to his, and peered into his eyes.

"You came," she whispered in a rasping voice. "I have something special in store for you."

Johnny shook so much his teeth chattered. He tried to speak but all that came out was, "Uh uh uh." The sight of his aunt was enough to scare anyone, with her dense black eyes, wild hair that looked like it was alive and a ragged dress that moved in a way that clothing wasn't supposed to move. He could have sworn it was alive.

Maria turned the child around and forced him to walk in front of her to the altar. When he peered back at the door, wishing with all of his might that someone would discover he wasn't in his bed and come to his rescue, like Papa or Mama, he was forced to look at the altar. It was covered with offerings and just above it, the cross embedded with silver milagros and nails, was glowing. He struggled but Tia Maria's fingers dug into his scalp, claws that rivaled a bird of prey. Where was Ranger Roy when he really needed him?

Johnny whimpered and his aunt shook him for making the sound. She muttered, "Hush, little one, hush. Soon it will all be over. . .when midnight strikes. . .See, it's coming!" She pointed at the wall above the altar.

When Johnny looked up he saw that an unholy light was emanating from the cross of nails hung above where the sugar baby lay. He tried to look away but the brightness drew his eyes to it, and although it was blindingly white he knew, just knew, that at its core was a terrible, black place - a place that no little boy should ever see. "Nooo. . .." he whispered. He wondered where Scott was and sent out a silent plea for help. "Scott!"

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Scott stirred in his bed and half-woke with a feeling that he'd heard someone calling out to him. But after listening intently in the dark, and not hearing a thing, he lay down to go back to sleep.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Aunt Maria leaned close to Johnny, her hair falling forward over his small shoulders. The long strands slithered around his neck and delved into his nightshirt. When he gasped in fright his aunt laughed hoarsely.

Her breath warmed his ear when she said, "Can't you feel it? It's coming, Johnny. You have been chosen, my little angel. Chosen to step forward across the veil of time, and in your place my baby, my own baby boy will slip over and everything that is wrong will be righted. He'll come back to me. This is the way it's supposed to be, and the spirits know it. I can feel them, just there," she said as she stretched out one hand towards the light. "There, across the barrier. I know you can, too."

She was right. He could feel something, something dreadful, tugging at his body and at his mind as well. There was another place there beyond the light, a black world where souls wept and gnashed their teeth, animals tore at each other in unending frenzy. He could feel them reaching out and pawing at his mind. A deep sorrow, heavy and overwhelming, cast its spell over him.

Johnny sank to his knees, but his aunt got a firm hold on his upper arms and dragged him upright. "Have I been bad?" he managed to ask in a dry little voice. "Am I being punished?"

Tia Maria nuzzled the side of Johnny's neck and reassured him, "Oh no, my sweet, they only take the good ones, the little angels. That's why my own little boy, my baby Juanito, was taken from me. But he wasn't supposed to die." She giggled, the sound out of place and slick with madness. "I was hiding you know, with my babe in my arms, in Chapel's bedroom, waiting for it to be clear so we could return to this casita. Paul almost caught us. But I kept the babe oh so quiet. It's just that I held his blanket over his face too long. . .You see, I couldn't let my husband hear him cry. Paul looked everywhere but he never found us."

With a ragged breath Maria cried, "My baby!" She then tightened her hold on Johnny and began to chant, the sound dense and gutteral, thick with words that were almost inhuman. "Alt spracht thustra, sprawn thracht angelus childe. . ."

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Scott suddenly sat upright. He knew without a doubt that Johnny wasn't in his bed. He lit a candle and found his assumption was correct. Johnny's bedcovers were thrown back and the only thing remaining in his bed was a fox's tail, somewhat worse for wear. He'd have to go and find the kid before their mother got wind of this. "Where the heck have you got to, Johnny? Boy, sometimes I wish I never had a kid brother."

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

The room around Johnny grew dim and his vision was filled with the light coming from the cross; it blinded him to everything. He became inexorably enthralled even though a part of him knew his end was near. His aunt's voice receded and the painful grip she had on his body faded as he became numb. Then he saw it: the baby, the baby made of _sugar_ , it . . .it _moved_.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Scott threw open the door to his aunt's little house and saw her, shifting and moving like she was in a trance, forcing Johnny to stay close to the altar. His whole body glowing from a tremendous light that was blasting from the cross nailed over the sugar baby. He seemed mesmerized by it and, with his head tipped back, stood close drinking in the radiance.

Scott had known that something was not right; some inner sense had told him exactly where he'd find his brother and it looked like he was just in time. He thought with a sinking feeling that he didn't have a weapon or anything.

There was a rushing noise coming from the altar and hot air was sending bits of paper and dying flower petals flying on its updraft. They swirled around, catching fire as they settled on the many candles alight around the room.

Scott started to call out to his aunt to ask what was going on, but then he saw what she was doing. He had to cover his mouth with his hand to stop from crying out.

Tia Maria, her head back, eyes rolled back into her head, had a glass votive candle in each hand. She was pouring hot wax onto her bare skin, right on her neck. It dripped down her chest and flowed under the neckline of her ragged dress. But the thing that frightened Scott the most was not the sight of her flesh burning from the hot candle wax, but the expression on her face - one of excruciating rapture.

The sugar baby that lay on the altar waved its little arms in the air and gasped for breath. Maria inhaled deeply then let out a savage cry. "Now is the time!" She took hold of Johnny by the neck and arm, picked him up roughly and prepared to toss him into the light. Johnny struggled feebly, whimpering, the movement of his arms mirroring those of the sugar baby who was trying to come to life.

Scott found his voice and yelled, "Stop! You leave my brother alone!"

Tia Maria, or the woman who had once been his aunt, turned on Scott, snarling, "He belongs to the other side! He can't be helped!" She didn't relinquish her grip on Johnny, but little Johnny came out of his stupor and squealed in terror. Scott jumped on the woman and tried to wrest Johnny from her. She only let go of the small child long enough to brush Scott out of the way with a rough swipe of her arm. He went flying across the room and landed against the far wall with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

Unable to get up, Scott could only look on in horror as Maria grasped Johnny in both hands once more and lifted him high up. It was just like the way Murdoch had picked up a log to toss on the raging pyre in front of the hacienda earlier that evening.

The woman spoke an incantation and prepared to toss the five-year-old into the rift of light.

Knowing he only had seconds in which to act or else it would all be over, Scott scrambled to his feet, shouted and rushed forward to rescue his brother. Johnny started screaming so loud it was a surprise that nobody came running. Scott threw himself at Maria and grabbed her arm, causing her to lower Johnny just long enough so he could get his arms around his little brother. Scott struggled and fought as hard as he could but his aunt was much stronger than any eight-year-old skinny boy and his hold was slipping.

Just when Scott was about to lose his grasp on Johnny, another person came running into the house and launched himself at Maria. It took Scott a second to recognize the slight figure as being Valerian.

Val grappled with the woman and they hit the floor with a resounding crash. Maria still had one vise-like hand around Johnny's wrist, her talons digging into his tender flesh until blood poured from the wounds. Val was having a hard time holding down the madwoman, but he got his arm around her neck in a chokehold, and he did everything he could to hold her down. "Take him," Val gasped to Scott. "Get Johnny outta here! It's almost midnight!"

Scott wrapped his arms around Johnny and wrenched his little brother out of Tia Maria's grasp. Finally Johnny was free and the two children fell back against the altar. Johnny's arms flailed around in an attempt to keep his balance and his hand struck the sugar baby; it fell off the altar and, just as if they were watching in slow motion, it fell to the floor and broke into a hundred little pieces. Horrified, the Lancer boys got hurriedly to their feet but they couldn't get past Maria and Val who were wrestling on the floor at their feet.

Maria, still being held around her neck by Val, saw her baby - the pallid substitute for the real, flesh and blood child she had lost, its life destroyed by her own hand - in pieces on the floor. She wailed, "Nooo! Not my baby, my angel! I'll kill you, kill you all!"

Petrified, Johnny wrapped his arms around Scott, seeking protection from the advent of death.

The clock began to strike midnight: one, two, three chimes and more. In one last, fierce surge of power driven by madness and religious fervor, the woman wrested herself out of Val's clutches. She hurled herself at the two small boys and drove them back towards the maelstrom of brilliance emanating from the altar. The powerful beams of light reached out like tongues and snagged the hapless children, pulling them into its vortex. The boys screamed and resisted but were no match for the evil force.

As the twelfth chime of the clock struck with finality, Val tackled Maria and forced her once more to the ground. She fell hard, hit her head and lay as one dead. Panting with exertion, Val stared at Scott and Johnny Lancer as they disappeared into the yawning light.

With a whoosh, the light beaming from the nail-studded cross was extinguished and the room was plunged into gloom.

Seemingly out of nowhere came a butterfly, its wings shining in brilliant orange and blue-black colors in the dim glow of the remaining candles. It fluttered around in a spiral and came to light on the remnants of the sugar baby.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Scott Lancer peered out of the stagecoach window. "Seems like we're picking up another passenger." For some unfathomable reason he was nervous at the sight of the dark-haired young man who was about to board. He looked Mexican, and wore pants with silver buttons down the legs and a fancy red shirt embroidered with butterflies, of all things.

The stage was already crowded but they were so close to his destination he was sure he could endure the cramped conditions a little longer. After all, what was a mere ten miles in comparison to the endless journey that stretched back behind him?

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

The stage took off before Johnny had a chance to take a seat. He fell into the only place available, and almost knocked a book out of the gent's gloved hands. He was going to sneer at the overly dressed traveler but the words came out of his lips milder than he had intended. "Didn't mean to. . . mess up your outfit."

Their eyes met, and in that brief moment a feeling hit Johnny that this was an important moment in his life. He shook it off because he didn't believe in premonitions or any of that mumbo jumbo. He'd had more than enough of that kind of thing from his mother, God rest her soul.

The blond man finally smiled slightly and said, "Can't be helped."

~ • ~ the end ~ • ~


End file.
